


Mars

by AdikaOfMandalore



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adorable Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda - Freeform, Baby Yoda is going to have a badass sister, Din Djarin - Freeform, Father-Daughter Relationship, Force Sensitivity, Force sensitive character, Friendship, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, Mando adopts yet another Force sensitive stray kid, Oberyn - Freeform, Oberyn is too sassy for her own good, Other, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, the mandalorian - Freeform, the mandalorian one shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:27:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22864012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdikaOfMandalore/pseuds/AdikaOfMandalore
Summary: During his job for the mercenary Ranzar Malk, Mando finds an unsuspected ally in Oberyn, a snarky Mirialan that just needs credits to buy herself a proper spaceship and kind of stucks around. (AKA Mando adopts another stray Force sensitive kid)
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), Din Djarin/Original Character, Oberyn/Din Djarin, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian/OC
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. Part One. The Razor Crest

**Mars - Sleeping At Last**

A/N: This is a short fic divided in three parts (that’s the plan, anyway, but who knows. I have, like, 0 control over this thing) and set during Episode 6 - The Prisoner of ‘The Mandalorian’.

Totally platonic relationship, guys! AKA the purest grumpy dad and snarky daughter dynamic you can dream of.

WARNINGS: Canon violence, language and sass

* * *

**PART ONE. THE RAZOR CREST**

**_There is goodness in the heart_ **

**_Of every broken man_ **

«This ship is ancient, man. How old are you?» Oberyn exclaimed in her thick accent, amethyst eyes big as saucers and a huge grin gracing her sharp features, not really expecting an answer from her silent new associate. – What a beauty» the young Mirialan then murmured under her breath, tracing with her gloved fingers the crisp edges of the former military craft. Now, _that_ was a ship worth flying – and perhaps stealing, on a good day.

«You want some time alone with it, Obe?» Mayfeld impatiently interrupted her amazement, passing her by the durasteel ramp that lead into the Razor Crest’s cargo hold.

«Sod off, baldy. Unlike the pieces of junk inside the hangar, this beauty is _history_!» she called back, rolling her eyes when the ex-imperial sharpshooter flipped her off without even turning to face her.

«And what would you know, little girl?» barked Burg in his rumbling voice, finally leaving the Mandalorian alone to focus all of his brutal, huge, presence on her.

“Maker, this guy is ugly as fuck”.

«Don’t call me that» she snapped, her cheeks a darker shade of green than the rest of her face, shooting him an ill glare. Not that it affected the Devaronian, since he was at least two feet taller than her and way – _way_ – bigger and muscular. But, then again, Oberyn always picked up the wrong fights, launching herself in dire situations without stopping and thinking about the consequences first. Kind of why she found herself stuck with those cut-throats and mercenaries, really.

«Ow, someone is upset. Poor babe» stated the female Twi'lek, Xi'an was her name, with faux commiseration, pouting towards the other woman with batting eyes and twirling mindlessly a throwing knife between her slender, agile fingers.

At that sarcastic remark, Oberyn forgot about the red, bulky Dev and spinned in her direction, almost snarling through gritted teeth, hand gripping the neck of her vibro-lance, strapped across her back. Xi'an hissed viciously and pointed the end of her dagger at her, ready to literally jump at her throat.

«Now now – tsk’d Ranzar Malk, a not-so-tall-but-certainly-fat human with curly, greasy hair. Also, the founder and actual boss of that whole mission. – Leave the girl alone, guys. She earned her place in this mission, didn’t she?» he pressed on, mockery tone and fakely benevolent smile on his oily, wide face.

The Mirialan scoffed under her breath, tempted to ask how was it a good thing at all, but they already wasted enough time and it just wasn’t worth it – for now.

And, after all, it wasn’t all that wise to provoke the very man that was founding you, was it? She really needed those credits, she needed them more than all those mercenaries put together. They, at least, had a fucking ship!

So she bit her tongue, nodded stiffly and dropped her bare arms along her narrow hips.

Xi'an smiled slyly and disappeared in the chilly dimness of the cargo hold, the brute Devaronian immediately following her, not so accidentally pushing Oberyn with his ridiculously big shoulder, almost knocking her off her feet and down the ramp.

«Kriffing asshole» she muttered, really fucking chagrined with that brainless brute, massaging her aching arm and fixing the thin black band around her biceps.

A shiny shadow hovered above her and she abruptly glanced up, startled at the sudden, undetected proximity of the Mandalorian now standing right in front of her.

One moment he was a proper marble statue by Ranzar’s side and the next he was less than a foot away from her, so close she could actually smell gunpowder and leather and something else - soap? - on him.

He was unbelievably silent, given all the Beskar and weapons he was covered in. And he wasn’t exactly small nor skinny. That man was lethal in any possible way, be it for brute force or agile skills. Oberyn clicked her tongue, cheering on the inside. “Those fuckers don’t stand a chance against him. Better for them not to try anything funny.”

He was staring down at her, Obe could sense that much, helmet slightly tilted in a way that was strangely endearing, for a warrior of his skills and name.

« _You_ _okay?_ »

Oberyn blinked slowly at him, taken aback by his concern. Though it was nice to know not everyone in that crew was a complete dickhead, she didn’t want to pass as a helpless little girl – ‘cause she was not, she was nearly 23 –, so she straightened up her back and pointed her gaze towards his. Kind of. Really hard to tell with that kriffing helmet on the way.

«All good. – Did she just stutter right now? Ah, for Maker’s sake! – I’m tougher than I look» she concluded, more forcefully, swatting her short, unruly white hair away from her violet eyes, daring him to say otherwise.

«You got taste, Mando, this craft is magnificent» she eventually complimented, when the Mandalorian didn’t say anything in response and passed her to board his ship once again.

The bounty hunter’s steps faltered, now his turn to be puzzled by her genuine – even though stiff – smile, and looked at her over his shoulder. He nodded once, and then he was gone, leaving her alone on the durasteel ramp.

«Do not crush too hard, kid. You ain’t his type» Ran called back and Oberyn flinched, since she completely forgot about the owner of the mission studying her interaction with Mando.

«He ain’t mine» she deadpanned, finally boarding the Crest, but stopping just beyond the threshold to glare down at him.

«And why is that?» the human male exclaimed, cocking a bushy eyebrow in slight amusement, fatty hands crossed over a fatty stomach.

«He’s a man.»

* * *


	2. Part Two. The Mandalorian's secret

* * *

**PART TWO. THE MANDALORIAN'S SECRET**

**There is goodness in the heart**

**Of every broken man**

The Mandalorian disappeared up into the cockpit of the ship as soon as the Crest took off Ran's hangar, leaving the rest of the mercenaries to make themselves comfortable in the main deck; easier said than done. The Razor Crest wasn't exactly designed to be cozy and the group ended up sitting on the metal grills of the floor, harsh and _extremely_ cold, or at the edge of some crates – also harsh and extremely cold.

The young Mirialan settled down a little aloof from the rest of the “squad” and set her vibro-lance over her crossed legs, head inclined against the third step of a stair leading Maker knew were, focus trained over Burg, intent on pacing back and forth, back and forth, messing around as much as possible with Mando's stuff.

Oberyn rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time since they boarded, amethyst irises a dusty, dull shade in the dim light of the Razor Crest cargo hold. Why couldn't he just sit the kriff down? He was making her dizzy.

Still, following his movements was always better than studying the carbonite chamber, right in front of her. She shivered and hoped no one noticed her discomfort at its mere sight.

«Would you sit-down» Xi'an lamented – or, rather, hissed through her pointed teeth – after a few minutes of tense silence, for once sharing the same thoughts with her green-skinned colleague.

«And stop snooping around. It's not very polite, you know?» added promptly the only other female of the group. Needless to say, the brute Devaronian jumped at her throat, ignoring completely his Twi'lek friend. “Only seems fair”, Obe thought sarcastically, tightening her fists around the slim handle of her lance, when the red Dev with black, thick horns on top of his big, stupid head, stopped right in front of her.

«Who the fuck cares?» he rumbled, now immediately above her. “Maker, he's even more ugly from this angle.”

«Mando's not gonna like it, when he finds out you've been meddling with his ship.»

«Who the fuck cares?» Burg repeated, daringly. At that, Xi'an openly laughed, still balancing one of her beloved daggers on her index finger, the show off.

«You should, for starters, for your own good» the Mirialan warned, starting to lose her already short temper. _Was she about to pick up a fight with a kriffing Devaronian, so tall that he had to hunch over so as not to bump into the roof of the deck?_

«Fuck off, little girl» he blurted, an ugly grin on his thin lips. _Damn right she was._

«I already told you, do not call me that.»

«I call you whatever I want, little girl.»

The Mirialan was on her feet in a second, gaze flaming with rage, and the quickness of her movements took the bulky opponent by surprise. He stumbled back a little, before regaining his composure and grinding angrily his teeth.

«Did I scare you, big boy?» she mocked, licking her lower lip and readying herself to strike when Burg moved towards her, basically growling like a gundark. That's when Mayfeld decided enough was enough and stept in between, pushing rather physically the two apart.

«Okay, okay. Alright, you two. Stop behaving like kids, would ya? This job's very important, very expensive, so I say we act like the professionals we are and leave our quarrels out of it, for the time being. Okay? I don't have time to fucking babysit you, so stop being a-holes.»

«Whatever» Oberyn muttered stiffly under her breath, dominant hand still gripping her vibro-lance, at ready. Burg was _huge_ , but her weapon could take down mudhorns double his size, if needed be. She just hoped his eventual fall wouldn't damage the ship's floor too badly.

«Obe, I swear, I'm getting tired of your snarky-» But the ex-imperial sharpshooter didn't get the chance to complete his threat, interrupted by a low thump behind them.

«I see you get along well» commented a monotone, almost robotic, voice. Oberyn smiled tightly and looked over Mayfeld and Burg's shoulders, meeting the unreadable T-visor of the Mandalorian helmet. Right on time.

«Ah, Mando – exclaimed the human male, turning slowly to him, huge grin twisting his pale face. – Are we finally worthy of your presence?»

«The droid's about to make the jump into hyperspace» Mando simply stated, completely ignoring his sarcasm.

«Good.»

«About time» scoffed Xi'an with a click of her tongue, staring at him with anger – or hunger, Oberyn couldn't really tell – in her dark eyes. The beskar-clad man didn't say anything else and just stared ahead of him. Supposedly.

Burg grunted something under his breath, before surpassing both Mayfeld and Oberyn and started once again to mess around, this time randomly pushing bottoms on the keypad just right beside where the Mandalorian was standing, still as a statue. Idiocy at its best.

Burg chuckled lowley one the doors of the weapons locker flew open, but his grin quickly fade away; Mando pressed something on his left vambrace and they closed immediately after. Obe coughed a laugh, but stiffened just like her colleagues when the two warriors almost – and not so figuratively – butted heads after Burg reached over and tried to press yet another button. Mayfeld, quite unsurprisingly, sighed and intervened once again.

«Hey, hey. Okay... okay. I get it. I'm a little particular about personal space myself – he said in a much conciliatory tone than the one used just moments prior to sedate Burg and Oberyn. – So, let's just do our job, yeah? We get in, we get out, and you won't have to see our ugly faces ever again. Sounds good?»

«Why do we even need a Mandalorian?» Burg wanted to know, eventually backing away from the faceless man.

«Apparently, they are the best warriors in the galaxy» the former sharpshooter explained in a rather dismissive manner.

«Then why are they all dead?» The Dev asked and his companions laughed – minus Mando and Oberyn, who actually flinched at the question. The Mirialan could feel his sharp stare on her and threw an apologetic look towards him, before lowering her purple gaze to her combat boots.

Mandalore was not the only planet wiped away during the war and she was, too, a fugitive. Homeless, alone, her family massacred when she was barely an infant.

«Well, you worked with him, Xi'an – started Mayfeld, turning towards the Twi'lek woman, ginger-ish brow raised in curiosity. – They any good?»

«Ask him about the job on Alzoc III» she simply replied, clicking her tongue and focusing back on balancing the dagger on her finger.

«I did what I had to.» Mando finally spoke, voice somehow strained and ashamed even through the voice modulator of his helmet.

«Oh, but you liked it. See, I know who you really are, Mando» Xi'an stated in a sing-song voice, licking her needlelike teeth.

«And he never takes is helmet off?» insisted the ex-imperial, glancing between the two of them.

At that, the female Twi'lek dropped her knife on her lap and shook her head.

«This is the Way» she then mocked, voice low and emotionless, bumping a fist to her flat chest. Mayfeld uhm'd at that and sat next to her, gaze fixated to the dark visor of the Mandalorian.

«I wonder what you look like under there.»

«Drop it, man - Oberyn eventually stepped in. - You said we need to cooperate and respecting his Way seems to me a pretty great place to start with. Hey, I said leave him alone, dickhead!» she nearly shouted, when Burg moved from his earlier position and towards the beskar warrior.

«You stay out of this, Obe – stated Mayfeld. – We ain't doing anything wrong, after all, we just want to see his eyes.»

«He clearly doesn't want you to see them, so I say you drop it.»

But the Devaronian was already reaching for Mando's helmet. Or, rather, attempting to, because next thing they knew, the bulky alien was stumbling backwards with a lament, knocked off balance by the Mandalorian himself. Burg caught himself on the control panel, pressing the only button present on its rectangular surface.

The hatch to what Oberyn guessed was the warrior's sleeping quarter opened with a silent hissing sound and the man stopped dead in his tracks, breath all of a sudden shallow and stiff posture – more than his usual tense stance.

The Mirialan girl followed her companions' stares and gulped in astonishment. The cot had, in fact, an occupant. A small, green... _something_.

«What the hell is that?»


End file.
